Dire Circumstances
by Die Heiresses
Summary: Daphne Greengrass Jr has been a Harry Potter fan for nearly her entire life, but she couldn't be less happy when she receives her Hogwarts letter because of the drama it reignites.
1. One: Regarding the Letter

Annalicia Malone, Harry Potter superfan

supposed that it was just her luck that her best friend had gotten the Hogwarts letter. What was it, she wondered, that made Daphne more worthy? Why hadn't she been the one? She knew, of course, that that wasn't how it worked at all. Goodness knows she'd researched the heck out of it. It really did have to do with the magic in her—or, in this case, Daphne's—blood. But still. It almost would have been better, better if the whole universe had been fictional, better if the years she'd spent falling desperately in love with magic had all been devoted to a false idol. Better if Daphne, that perfect soul, had gone through the disappointment with her.

Daphne Greengrass Jr, gifted and talented

wished that had been the case. The price she'd paid for the Hogwarts letter, the price she hadn't told Annalicia about (yet, she told herself. She hadn't told Anna yet), was her mother. When the letter arrived she hadn't had the heart to pull her father out of his work-obsessed state for a full three days. But when she finally managed to do it, he was less than surprised. He'd told her that her mother had been a witch, one from Hogwarts, no less. She was now teaching there, with her new husband, no less. Her mother had left them when Daphne was just over two years old. Daphne's father refused to talk about her, but she knew he must have loved her to give Daphne her last name. Daphne could imagine his staunchly traditional family's embarrassment at this, and her dad wasn't one to push things. He always wanted to keep the peace. Very Hufflepuff of him, she thought, though she knew he was a Gryffindor at heart. 'licia and she had spent many of the hours they hadn't spent poring over every available edition of the series sorting anyone they even remotely knew, excepting, of course, themselves. They'd made a pact not to sorry each other until they were sure that neither had received the Hogwarts letter. Daphne had privately thought that Hogwarts probably didn't exist. She'd never voiced it, of course, but she was never as sure as Annalicia.

Now, of course, the irony stuck her, but she couldn't really laugh, could she? It was heartbreak all around. Besides, she thought she might burst into tears.


	2. Two: On Working Out the Sordid Details

Roderick Greengrass, devoted husband and father

had changed his last name out of respect of his then-wife's feminist ideals. He'd done everything for her, from changing his name to not asking about the people that occasionally made phone calls asking about "the Hogwarts job". All she told him about that was that it'd been a job she'd applied for years ago. Roderick found that peculiar, even for her. But he'd said nothing to his gorgeous, charismatic wife.

Why? Why was Daphne so similar to her mother? And now this? He couldn't stand having Daphne Jr leave him like this.

But it would, in all fairness, probably make her happy. So he resolved to break the one promise his wife had asked—no, demanded of him.

He got out a pen and a showy peacock quill (yet another thing he'd picked up from his wife) and drafted a letter to D. Greengrass Sr, care of Hogwarts school of witchcraft.

 **Daphne Greengrass Sr, master of heartbreak**

knew that Sybil was a nasty, temperamental, no good b-

Daphne stopped herself. She'd fallen so far from the strict feminist principles of her early twenties.

She was doing that a lot lately. She'd barely made it through her first class this morning when she'd snapped at a student. What would that version of herself think, Daphne wondered, at the way she'd been behaving lately?

This time, though, Trelawney didn't deserve it. She'd only been repeating what McGonagall had told her, although she could have paraphrased it a bit. McGonagall's dislike of Trelawney had only worsened since they'd become the oldest two teachers still at Hogwarts, and neither was exactly civil to to other, though they kept it in check around the students.

The reason, it turned out, was that there was a letter for her. Having maintained no connection whatsoever with the muggle world after leaving it years ago, she was surprised, to say the least, when she noticed the muggle postage stamp on the front.

She opened the letter. It was written in a familiar hand, and her heart have a small pang despite itself. The letter read:

 _Dear Daphne,_

 _I realise that I promised, long ago, never to write, and I am nothing if not a man of my word. But dire circumstances call for dire measures, and I feel that it is in both of our best interests to be in closer contact for the time being._

 _You see, my—our—daughter just received a letter invited her to attend Hogwarts. I know enough to deduce that that's where you've gone, and I'm asking, no, begging you to help me with a rather large favor._

 _I need you to convince her to turn down the invitation._

 _Let me anticipate your response. "But if it makes her happy..." you'd say. "It's not my position..." In this regard, while not in many others, you'd be completely wrong. Think of what Hogwarts did to you, to me. Think of what it did our family, for crying out loud._

 _If you decide to help me, as I truly hope you will, we haven't moved since you left. I trust your owl will be able to find us._

Below this was the word love, crossed out with a single shaky line. Daphne's heart broke a little at this.


	3. Three: Reminiscing

Minerva McGonagall, disastrous in love

had almost decided not to give the letter to Daphne. She'd read it through, as was was standard procedure for letters that arrived via Hogwarts' post office box. She was aware of the letter's inflammatory contents. She was also aware of how often Daphne made decisions based on her heart, instead of using her considerable intellect. But she had decided that this was a choice that Daphne had to make for herself, even if either option had the risk of tearing her daughter and husband's lives apart.

Minerva hadn't had that choice. When she sent a letter to the object of her affections, it had never reached him. Yet she'd only learned this months ago.

She'd been young and in love, with the hope that the young, handsome, and charismatic (and not to mention downright genius) Albus Dumbledore might return her feelings. But the end of his last term at Hogwarts had rolled around and she hadn't told him how she felt. Her friends, who were a practical, unromantic bunch, told her to give it up and focus on her studies.

But Minerva was not a witch easily swayed. So she'd penned a letter to him

She gave it to her owl and sent it off. After a time, she began to wonder why she hadn't received a response. Albus could have at least had to decency to send a letter of rejection. But none came. By the time they were both hired at Hogwarts, she'd hardened her heart sufficiently that she could stand to look him in the eye, and she did her best to keep her personal life out of her professional one.

It wasn't until much later that she'd gotten the full story. Aberforth, Albus' less charming brother, had intercepted it, he told her, after Dumbledore's funeral. He'd read it and decided to spare both of them a load of heartache. Since Albus was preoccupied, and, besides, clearly smitten with another wizard, he wanted to spare her the pain of hearing it from Albus, who would indubitably feel awful about rejecting her, making a hard thing worse and distracting Albus.

Minerva understood why he'd done it, but she'd wished for a chance to tell him how she felt, not to tell his brother. It would have been nice, at least, to have a letter back from him to treasure.

All this was to say that she'd wanted to make the decision herself. And she wasn't about to deprive Daphne of that, either.

Sibyl Trelawney, acclaimed hoax-ess

had neither Minerva's logical mind, nor proffessor Greengrass' common sense, but she had one thing that both were sorely lacking: a sense of drama. When she'd pilfered the letter and read it, this part of her character was called into play.

Honestly, she thought, neither of them could truly appreciate the situation, because neither had the ability to see the drama in the situation. Sybil had seen dramas like this, and she knew how they all ended. Someone invariably got hurt, heartbroken, or both. She liked the elder Greengrass, and while one would have to be incredibly charitable to call them friends, Sybil cared about her. The question was, should she intervene, or stay out of it. She'd seen plenty of dramas, and intervention never worked out in anyone's favor. But, after all, this wasn't television. The stakes were too high.

Sybil drafted a note.

Hey, Daphne. I heard about what's happening with you and Roderick. I know this isn't my business, but I have some advice, if you'd like to hear it. You know where to find me!

Sybil

Even to Sybil this sounded pathetic. She balled up the piece of parchment and threw it into the wastebasket.


	4. Four: A Beginner's Guide to Regrets

Annalicia Malone, grudge-holder

regretted something, despite her strict, self-enforced no regrets policy.

It happened late the previous night. Annalicia had heard a knock on the door, and gone to answer it. Instead of the persistent salesmen who roamed the neighborhood, she saw a sight both unexpected and unlikely.

Daphne stood on her doorstep.

"My father... I'm worried... mother... I can't... " she sobbed. Daphne seemed to pull herself together, and then: "I have something important to tell you. Can I come in?" She'd stared at her for a moment, and slammed the door in hey face.

Why? She didn't know, but what she did know was that Daphne sure wasn't speaking to her for a long, long while.

Daphne Greengrass Jr, desperate and lonely

wished there was someone to go to for advice on this. She was overwhelmed with this whole ordeal.

Early this morning, she'd received a letter by owl. She wasn't surprised, since her Hogwarts letter had arrived the same way, but she was intrigued. She rushed upstairs to open it, and when she tore open the envelope, she had to sit down. The letter was from her mother.

It requested correspondence, and was written in such a friendly manner that Daphne almost wanted to oblige her mother. But what of the trials her mother had put her through. Still, if she wanted to make up, then Daphne owed her...

If Annalicia had been there, she would have told Daphne that she owed her mother nothing. She would have said that Daphne should do what her gut said to do, and no more. If Annalicia had been there, maybe Daphne would have made a different decision.

But Annalicia wasn't there, and wouldn't be for the foreseeable future. So she did what Greengrass girls for centuries have been famous for. She made a rash decision.


	5. Interlude

Interlude, in which several questions are posed, but only one answered.

Will Daphne Jr make the right choice? Were Sibyl and Minerva right not to counsel Daphne Sr? Can Annalicia and Daphne Jr find their way back to friendship. Can Daphne Sr and Roderick find their way back to love? Only time will tell.

Were this one of Daphne Sr's guilty pleasure romantic comedies, it would all work out in the end. Even in Annalicia and Daphne's favorite books, the Harry Potter series, the three main characters come out relatively unscathed, physicially if not mentally, with the assumption that they'll heal with time. Will this prove true for this story, or will it more mirror the depressing adult stories that Daphne Sr more publicly endorses?

I'll tell you one thing, though. The answer to one of the above questions is yes.


	6. Five: An Advanced Guide to Regrets

Roderick Greengrass, loner in love

had a regret. While this wasn't uncommon for him, as he was a man who often believed that he'd behaved rashly, he couldn't get this one out of his head. So he went to go see a friend.

George Porgie had a very unfortunate name, and an equally fortunate talent for baking. Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie: your local bakery, located on East Fourth Street next to the fishmonger and the cobbler, was the perfect place to eat a hot croissant. The fact that George was an old friend of Roderick only made it better, and so when Roderick was in a funk he often found himself in front of Georgie Porgie.

"What's the matter, Rody?" asked George once Roderick was situated behind the counter with his customary pastry and cup of coffee.

"Matter? Nothing's the matter!" Roderick said, too heartily. He was a terrible liar.

George decided to voice that thought, but in a decidedly less delicate manner. Roderick punched him in the arm.

"Really, though. What's up?"

"I…I don't know. I think I made the wrong choice."

"No, really? That hasn't happened before!" Roderick had talked about his doubts with George, and he never let him forget it.

"George. My daughter just got invited to an…elite school. I told her she shouldn't go."

"What? Why?"

"Not like that. The school's where her mother went, and I'm afraid it'll take her, too."

"Oh." Roderick hadn't mentioned Daphne Sr since she'd left, so George was wise to play it safe.

"I sent her a letter. I asked her to keep Daphne from going to Hogwarts. She said yes."

"Ohhhhh. Bummer, dude."

"Why? I asked for it, didn't I?"

"Right, but Daphne didn't. Daphne Jr, I mean."

"So? She can make her own choices."

"But if her mom tells her she should…" George trailed off, leaving Roderick to catch his drift.

"…she'll make the decision based on what her mother says, instead of choosing by herself."

"Bingo." Roderick looked even more regretful, and George felt bad. "Buck up, bro! If you can go talk to her about it, then all will be fine."

So Roderick resolved to have a good chat with Daphne.

Minerva McGonagall, follower of protocol

had received letters of either confirmation or refusal from every student invited to attend Hogwarts, and now came the thrilling task of using the proper protocol to file and record the students.

Minerva was halfway through the stack when she saw it. Daphne Greengrass Jr had written a while back, but Minerva had been putting off the task of filling it. She reminded herself that she was merely following protocol, and that they never opened the letters until it was time.

But now it was time, and she opened the letter with dread. Her eyes widened at Daphne's response, but she remained seated. She wasn't surprised, she was curious to note. Her only thought was whether she ought to tell Daphne Sr what her daughter had chosen. It would make Daphne happy, she thought. At least she hoped so.


End file.
